Kasper Angelus
by anonymousjane
Summary: I'm fairly certain this is an original plot line. AU, BA Angel is cused to be the 'ghost in the attic', of the house Buffy just moved into. Trust me, better than it sounds! Will Buffy help him?
1. I've Been Waiting

**Hiya!**

**Okay, this is another of my Buffy/Angel fics, and I'm pretty sure no one else has had this idea yet. This story has a villain character that isn't in Buffy, because none of them I felt were quite right for the part and I didn't want to upset anyone by making anyone ooc. So anyway, She is a character that I have in quite a lot of my none- fanfic stories, (Apart from one of my other Buffy fanfics) so I think she's quite good for the part instead. She's not in this chapter though. **

**Chapter 1: I've been waiting.**

The attic was small and dark. Light had not penetrated its thick walls for hundreds of years, and dusty books lay abandoned on the thin shelves, practically hanging of the walls. Nothing moved, save for a huddled form, hidden in the shadows at the corner of the room.

He listened, the usually complete silence had been broken by the sounds of movement downstairs. He didn't dare hope, didn't dare risk rng.

The attic was small and dark. Light had not penetrated its thick walls for hundreds of years, and dusty books lay abandoned on the thin shelves, practically hanging of the walls. Nothing moved, save for a huddled form, hidden in the shadows at the corner of the room.

He listened, the usually complete silence had been broken by the sounds of movement downstairs. He didn't dare hope, didn't dare risk raising his head. He merely stayed still, and couldn't help but concentrate on the sounds of muffled laughter. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered that at one time, he himself had known laughter. He had long since forgotten how. That ability had long gone along with many others.

But he hadn't forgotten why he was here. He hadn't forgotten who had chained his wrists and his ankles, or who had locked him in here, kept him from daylight, from his friends. And he hadn't forgotten whom he was waiting for.

He didn't remember exactly when he had given up hope, only that he had at some point. He had lost sight of time, he couldn't even have estimated what year it was now.

He kept as still as he could, having had years of practice, and listened. His head was still rested on his knees, as he wondered how long these intruders would stay. He wondered how long it would take for them to discover him. How long it would take them to leave. Of course, there had been others. Others who had decided to stay in this house. Each had been different, and yet exactly the same. Each had left shortly after discovering him. None of them had freed him from his prison. He supposed that they had been scared.

It had been a long time since the last visitor had departed, and he wondered how the world had changed since then. It seemed to him that with every visitor, his or her appearance and manner grew ever stranger. He speculated on what kind of people they were, as he strained his ears to catch every sound that he could.

Some time later, he didn't know exactly when, the noises desisted, and he assumed that the new inhabitants had retired to their chambers. To sleep. How he wished that he could do the same. He couldn't. He was doomed to spend every moment, waiting for him to come. Waiting for someone whom he knew in his heart would never come.

And so he stayed, his head never moving from his knees, his hands and ankles forced together in front of him. And he waited.

**...**

****

Buffy summers woke the next morning in an unfamiliar bed. She frowned, still sleepy, before remembering the move. Her eyes took in the sight before her. Last night, she had been way too tired to really look at her new room, and now that she did, she realised how beautiful it was, as was the rest of the old Victorian style mansion. A large glass door covered in deep red curtains led the way to an exquisite balcony, and the rest of the room had an eighteenth century style to it. The wooden floorboards didn't even creak as she made her way to the bathroom, to wash up.

Once she had finished, she strolled out into the long hallway, taking in the portraits hanging on the walls. She passed an ornate grandfather clock, and saw that it was still quite early in the morning. She decided that, rather than wake her parents, she would take this opportunity to explore the house on her own.

Buffy continued down the elegant hallway, knowing that even if the floorboards did creek, her parents wouldn't hear, as they were in the other wing of the house. That was possibly what she liked best about this house. She got her own wing! She knew that as soon as she made friends at her new school, she would invite them all over for a really big slumber party! Of course, all of her old friends were welcome as well. Especially Faith and her boyfriend Spike, they were always so much fun. She knew that they would love this almost spookily gothic house.

She paused, as she noticed a passageway leading off to her left. She peered down it, noticing that it was pretty dark, and knowing that she didn't know this house nearly well enough to know where a light-switch was. She shrugged, she'd check it out later.

Buffy continued down the corridor, and, noticing a large oak door opened it and walked in. The room was decidedly small compared to the other rooms that she knew of. It contained a small wooden table with a few books open atop it. Stacked on shelves to one side, she noticed various herbs and spices stacked in strange jars and bottles. It was all very old fashioned, and looked as though the previous owner had simply forgotten all about it.

Buffy decided that she would show her mom later, and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. She walked back up the corridor the way that she had come, hoping to change out of her snoopy pyjamas.

Buffy stopped in her tracks when she heard a noise. It seemed to be coming from her right. From the corridor that she had noticed earlier.

Curious, she called out, "Mom, dad? Is that you?"

There was no reply.

Cautiously, she made her way down the dark hallway, trying not to bump into anything or trip or fall.

"Hello?" She tried.

Again, she received no answer, and now she was starting to wonder whether she had imagined the sound. Still she went on, her right hand running along the wall, until she came to the end of the passage. She could just make out in the darkness a long wooden staircase. The darkness seemed to encourage her to keep silent, as she crept up the stairs.

Buffy felt the darkness grow cold around her as she neared the top of the stairs, and Buffy felt an odd sort of foreboding as she realise that she was standing at the door to the attic. She mentally scolded herself for being so silly, knowing that it was just because this was a new house and she was unfamiliar with it. But then she remembered the weird bumping noise that she had heard, and made up her mind.

She reached her hand forward and twisted the door handle, pushing the door. It remained closed. 'Damn' she thought, before saying it aloud. She pushed on it a few more times, but to no avail. She was just about to turn and leave, when she noticed the key in the lock. She smiled and shook her head, before turning the rusted old key in the lock, and easing the old door open.

"Buffy." Called her mother's voice from downstairs. Buffy sighed and, deciding that she could always come back later, headed back down the stairs to her mother.

**...**

He finally raised his head from his knees. His dark brown eyes, once full of life, were now vacant and unfocused, as he listened once again. At least one of the new inhabitants was up. That must mean that it is morning. He could no longer tell, the shadows in the attic stayed the same, there were no windows and the door almost always stayed shut. The room stayed deathly still, as it had always done. And he listened. Whoever it was, was drawing closer.

...

The footsteps died away, yet still, he listened. After all the years, alone in his attic, he had come to thirst for anything outside of his own existence. He had read every single book in this God-forsaken place more than once, and every whisper of sound in this house drew his attention. He had become adept at interpreting sounds. He listened, and waited, wondering whether he should draw the person's attention to this place.

...

The person was returning. He could hear them walking along, almost directly beneath his prison. He wondered if he could get them to come up here, to open the door. He told himself that it would happen eventually, he should remain still, but he could no longer wait, he felt himself needing to experience something, anything outside of his own pathetic existence.

Slowly, he raised his hands, they ached from disuse, and his wrists were raw from the chains around them, but he bared it. He grabbed a nearby book, and threw it as hard as he could at the opposite wall. He heard the thump, and leant back into his previous position, his bones protesting, once again listening.

He held himself as still as he possibly could, when he heard the clear voice. It was a girl. And she was climbing the stairs. He remembered those stairs. He didn't remember what they had looked like, but he remembered being dragged up them, his limbs already tied together.

He couldn't help but wonder how this girl would react to him. What did she look like? Did she live here now? Of course, he knew, that when she saw him, realised what he was, she would run as far as she could in the other direction. But still, if she could only open the door, maybe it would make it easier for him to be found. By him.

...

The door was open! He felt a rush of gratitude to the beautiful blonde girl who had opened the door to his prison. Her clothes had, as he had expected, been very strange indeed. Her dress intrigued him to no end. He found himself yearning to know more about her. Just then, what he assumed to be her mother called her, and he couldn't decide whether to be grateful or to despair.

Still, he waited for a while, until he could no longer hear her. His breath was ragged as he clambered to his feet. He stood for a couple of seconds before his legs gave way from under him. He crashed to the ground, panting. Every single part of his body hurt. Now he remembered why he had tried not to move for so long. His bones ached as he crawled further to the door.

The shadows had shifted. What little light had come from outside the door had entered the room. Just this small difference was monumentous to him. His eyes were long since used to the darkness, and outside the door he could see the stairs. It had been so long since he had seen anything other then the room that he was in. His confused mind couldn't take in all that was happening, though to others it would seem so little. He now wondered how he had kept himself from going mad in the confines of such a small room. He could not fathom the new expanse of the stairway, and the long corridor promising many other rooms to explore.

He shifted his weary body, so that he sat, in front of the door, his eyes roaming round the new and yet familiar sight.

He remembered these stairs so well now. The dark red carpet that covered it was the same it seemed, the banister still wooden. He remembered trying to grab it when he had been hauled up here. But his chains had prevented him from being able to.

His keen eyes noticed scuff marks at the corner of the stairs, and wondered whether it had been him that had made them. Or his captors. Of course, he was barefoot now. They had taken his shoes. And his life.

Here was the doorway to his freedom, and yet still, he hesitated. He couldn't bring himself to step outside. Who knows what could be waiting for him outside?

And so, his heart heavy, he decided to wait for nightfall. He stayed there, still as possible, waiting for any sign that the beautiful girl had retired once again to her bed.

**...**

**Okay! That's it for the first chapter, if you want more, please review! I quite like this story, and I have a really good plan for where it should go, so please review. Constructive criticism is always greatly appreciated!**

**Luv Angie : )**

****

**Ps, i'm really sorry about some of the formatting, the indentation dosen't work for some reason! : )**


	2. Discoveries

**Hi again! **

**I really appreciate all the reviews I got, it was sooo great, and it inspired me to continue, my thanks at the bottom!**

**As with all of my stories, if you want anything added, please ask, I really do listen to my reviewers! **

**Once again, I DISCLAIM EVERYTHING!!!**

**Hope you like this chapter! :)**

**Chapter 2: Discoveries**

Time passed excruciatingly slowly as he sat in the darkness of his cell, but eventually he heard the almost inaudible sounds of the girl's footsteps as she quietly returned to her chambers.

This was of course the opportunity he had been waiting for, and yet still he stayed, not moving from his spot crouched on the floor. His eyes were fixed on the doorway, willing himself to gather the courage to walk through it.

He balled his stiff hand into fists and slammed them onto the hard wooden floor beneath him. He gathered all of his strength and used his aching arms to try to lift his weary body up onto his feet. He swayed, and he felt dizzy as his hands grasped onto a nearby bookshelf. He leaned himself against it, barely noticing that his hands were now covered in dust. He waited several moments for the room to stop spinning, before he lifted his head and looked over at the door.

He reached a hand out to it, his other still supporting him against the shelf. He straightened his heavy arm, and slowly inched forward towards it. His hand was mere inches away when he heard the soft sound of someone climbing the scarcely used stairs.

Panic shot through his entire body. How could he not have heard? He had allowed himself to become careless with his chances, not even noticing the most obvious of warnings until it was too late. He spun his head around, searching for cover and making his head swim. He collapsed to the hard floor, and crawled painfully over to his corner. As quickly as he could, he drew himself into the shadows, trying to slow his harsh breathing at the exertion.

He cursed himself for his stupidity. He had lost his chance, whoever it was was bound to lock him in again. He lifted his knees once again and tried to make his large frame as unnoticeable as he could in the small room.

**...**

Buffy frowned. Once again she had heard indiscernible banging coming from that same place. She found herself compelled to investigate the sounds. But now, as she stood at the top of the stairway, uncertainty gripped her. She had no idea what to expect. She had thought about getting her parents, but she decided against it when she reasoned that she would appear weak and pathetic when they discovered something entirely harmless.

Being weak and pathetic was not something she wanted to appear in front of her father. She had always been strong willed and more than capable of taking care of herself, but her father treated her like some spoilt princess, and she despised it.

Still, she hesitated, she was positive that she had just heard yet another, different noise as she neared the end of the staircase. Nervously she pushed the aged oak door open once again and stepped inside the smallest attic of the house.

The room was crowded with all sorts of useless items, most of which she had no idea of what they were, most stuffed into strangely decorated metal boxes. She noticed a picture hanging from the wall to her right, but couldn't quite make out what it portrayed in the darkness. Underneath it, a large, solid oak bookcase stood. She peered at the tattered books on it, but she could barely make out what colour they were, let alone their titles.

Something caught her eye, and she frowned. The thick layer of dust that coated the shelves had a hand shape imprinted on it. Her eyes went wide as she realised what this meant. She quickly stepped back from the shelves, and scanned the room, searching for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find.

Someone must have made that handprint, and recently. Fear struck her as she realised that that anyone could be hiding in any of the many deep shadows at the corners of the room.

Suddenly remembering every single horror movie Spike and Faith had forced her to watch, she quickly looked behind her before pressing her back against the wall. Sure, she knew that her parents could have made that print, but she also knew that she was grasping at straws. She was the only one who had had time to explore this section of the house. And she had heard sounds coming from in this room.

She narrowed her eyes, and tried her best to see through all the blackened shadows cloaking the room. As she began to doubt her sanity, wondering whether she was silly to be so scared of a hand print that anyone could have made. The estate agent, perhaps? She noticed an indistinguishable shape lurking in the right hand corner of the room. Wondering what it was, she continued to squint into the darkness. She gasped in shock as she realised what it was. She almost screamed when it moved, just slightly.

She was petrified; who the hell is that? What was he doing here? Was he a burglar? How long has he been here? She calmed slightly as she realised that whoever it was, wasn't moving to attack her; it had merely raised its head to look at her.

She was rooted to the spot under its intense gaze, wanting to look away, but not able to. The shape was in fact a person, definitely male, but she couldn't tell his age. Suddenly she realised what he must be. A squatter. She had come to a believable conclusion. She almost laughed with relief, knowing that for just a moment she had thought that he had been a ghost. Of course, that was stupid, but still, she stood there.

She didn't know what to do for a moment, and simply looked at him in curiosity. She couldn't see much of him, as he was hidden in the depths of the shadows. But as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she was able to appraise him in more detail. He was cowered in the corner, his legs pressed against his chest as he hunched over, obviously trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. She noticed that his skin was almost unnaturally pale, a fact that was highlighted in comparison to the dark dirt marks on his face and body and his shoulder-length brown hair that hung limp and tangled around his face

He was clothed in a lose, torn and dirty old fashioned button up shirt, with billowing arms and a large rip down one of it's sides. He also wore a pair of lose, trouser bottoms, though they too, appeared strangely old fashioned to Buffy, the cut didn't quite seem right by today's standards. From what she could see, the length was just slightly short on him, and seemed to tighten towards the bottom instead of flare out a little, as was today's fashions. He wasn't wearing any shoes.

Buffy took all of this into account, and decided that if he were going to attack her, he would have done so already. Besides, he looked so pitiful that she doubted he could actually do her any harm at all. Finally able to speak, she asked, her voice whispered,

"Who are you?"

**...**

When the girl entered the room, he immediately buried his head in his knees, trying to hide away from her. He felt her nearness, and could hear her soft breathing as she inspected the small, over-crowded room. To his horror, he heard her gasp and back up against the wall. He stiffened, he knew that she had seen him. Slowly, he cautiously raised his head to look at her. She let out a small cry, making him wince in anticipation, but she didn't run away and lock him in, as others had before.

This was unexpected, she stood there, watching him with her big green eyes, and seemed to calm down slightly.

At this point, he scrutinised her further, confused. There was something different. There was something about her that he simply couldn't place. Years ago, he probably would have been able to desertain what it was in a metaphorical heartbeat, but no longer. He knew it had nothing to do with her dress, although it was indeed very bizarre, rather it was something that he could _sense _about her.

He stayed as still as he could, and continued to watch her, hoping that he wouldn't frighten her away. Their eyes were locked onto each-others, and he found himself not wanting to look away. He could tell that she had beautiful green eyes, even in the darkness, and he wondered what she was thinking. She didn't appear to be about to run or call for help, but then, he had not had practice in reading facial expressions in a long time.

Suddenly, he heard her speak. He started at the sound. For a moment, he struggled to comprehend what had been said. Then he realised that it had been a question. She had asked him who he was.

Quickly, he struggled to remember his name. Of course. His name was that of his father. Angelus. Kasper Angelus, that was it. He remembered that his friends had called him Angel.

Then, as he opened his mouth to speak, he realised that he couldn't. All that came out was a strangled croak. Even that immediately caused discomfort. It felt as if his throat was on fire. He looked up at the girl, expecting to see disgust evident on her face. He was not prepared to see sympathy, and he was not prepared to see her take a step towards him.

**...**

The man remained silent for a moment, and Buffy had thought that he wasn't going to answer, when she heard him make a strangled sort of sound. She frowned, maybe he couldn't speak. Cautiously, she crept towards him. As she did so, she could see that he was looking directly at her, confusion and pain evident n his eyes.

She was startled for a moment, his rich chocolate brown eyes seemed to bore right through her with such intensity. Still, she came over to where he was crouched down, and spoke to him, thinking that maybe there was something wrong with him.

"My name's Buffy." She told him. She saw him nod slightly, as if to show her she understood. His eyes never left hers.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, her voice sounding strangely loud in the quiet of the attic. She was hoping that maybe he could gesture some sort of answer.

He frowned deeply at her words. She doesn't know. Once again, he tried to talk, but his throat was dry and unused for so long.

Buffy saw him attempt to speak again, but all he could manage was a choked sound. She found herself once again noticing the pain etched in his eyes.

"Could you maybe show me?" She asked him, not wanting to cause him any further pain by asking him to speak. He looked at her, knowing that if he did, it would be the end of him. Still, he found himself slowly straightening his legs out in front of him, despite the pan it caused. He then leaned back against the hard wooden wall behind him, and, looked at her, cautiously wondering whether he would be able to escape before she locked the door behind her.

She noticed his hesitance, and slightly nodded at him, trying to let him know that he could trust her. She really did want to know what was wrong with him, Maybe she could help. She knew that her father could, if he wanted to. It had looked so painful for him when he had straightened out his legs, making her wonder just how long he had been in the attic.

She watched as he slowly raised his hands to his dirty, torn shirt, and pulled it down just enough to bare his chest.

She gasped in shock. Deep cuts and slashes marred his otherwise smooth skin. What appeared to be vicious stab wounds adorned the front of his pale body, accompanied by terrible looking bruises. There was a particularly awful looking wound above his heart, it appeared to be coated in a black, dusty substance. It struck her that it looked like gunpowder.

The wounds looked so serious that she couldn't believe he was still breathing. How could he have survived this? She noticed that, although the angry wounds looked as though they should be, they weren't bleeding. They appeared to have been recently made, and Buffy for a moment was too shocked to do anything.

Unconsciously, she reached out a shaking hand to comfort him, but he flinched away, obviously afraid of something. She drew back.

"I'll get you some help." She told the stranger, and began to get up. Suddenly, she heard him gasp, and a moaning sound came from him. She looked back to see him shaking his head, his eyes pleading with her.

She was confused, he obviously didn't want help. Has he done something? Is that why he's here? Is he hiding from the police?

Despite these worries, she couldn't help but feel pity for this man. But could she simply not tell anyone? She didn't know. From what little medical knowledge she had, she knew that she needed to get him help. She couldn't possibly ignore that and have a clear conscience. She looked at him in confusion.

"Can you stand?" She asked him.

He didn't answer. Slowly, painfully, he clambered to his feet, gripping onto a nearby box to steady himself.

Words couldn't describe the turmoil of emotions going through him. He could barely understand anything of what was happening to or around him. For so long, he hadn't felt anything, now all at once, all these conflicting thoughts made his head spin. He decided to simply not think about it. He could do that later. For now, he would simply do what the girl, Buffy, told him to.

He ignored his aching bones and protesting limbs as he stood, and took his first two successful steps in God knows how long.

Buffy watched him. His movements were slow, and every so often he would stop to catch his breath, before continuing. It was as if he hadn't walked in a long time.

Eventually, he made his way over to were she was, and stood, panting in front of her. Though he was hunched over, she could tell that he was at least a head taller than she was. But then, most people were. She also realised for the first time, that he couldn't be much older than her 17 years, though it was hard to tell through his dirt covered face.

She didn't yet know what she would do with him, all she knew was that she couldn't leave him here in the attic. Not in the state he was in.

She took his arm, and helped him along to the door. But, as they moved to cross the threshold, she felt him tense, and saw a look of panic cross his face.

She looked around, "What is it?" she asked him.

"What's wrong?"

He looked at her, then at the door, and she saw him gulp, then, cautiously take an uncertain step to the outside. She went with him, and saw, to her astonishment, his look of utter helplessness.

He didn't know what to do. It was all so overwhelming. Finally, after so long, he was outside! He was free. He looked down to the girl supporting him, helping him, and, for the first time in over 200 years, he smiled. It hurt, his face was unused to this gesture, and it felt uncomfortable doing it, but he couldn't stop.

He found himself ignoring every worry that he had, every concern, and concentrating solely on the fact that he was out of that damned attic!

Tears leaked out of his eyes, and still he smiled, ignoring them.

Buffy saw him smile, and although it looked forced, she couldn't help the small, confused smile that formed on her own lips.

They continued down the stairs together, and he couldn't help the tears of happiness fall from his eyes. His grin was replaced with a look of complete shock as he was led out of the corridor, and into some sort of bedchamber. It was so surreal, he was out! After all these years, he was finally free!

Looking around him, he saw a million new things to examine, to investigate. The room was large, and though dimly he remembered that this was the normal size for such a room, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the freedom of the space. And there was more! He knew that there were many other rooms to investigate in this manor, and though the prospect was very scary, it was also exhilarating.

He looked to Buffy, glee evident in his eyes. He didn't know how he would ever repay her for this. She looked up at him, clearly not knowing what she had done for him. He sank to his knees, knowing no other way to explain it to her and kissed her hand gently before bowing his head to the ground. He was so tired, and bewildered, he didn't know how else to get the message of thanks across to his rescuer.

Buffy was shocked, and didn't know quite how to react to him. He was now bent over so low, that his dark brown hair touched the ground in front of him. Careful not to hurt him, she reached out for his arm, and pulled him back to his feet. She kept her hands on his upper arms and looked intently at him.

"You're gonna be okay." She tried to reassure him, although, he already looked more than happy about something or other. She then gestured over to her bed.

"You can sleep there for now, I'll grab the floor, we'll figure out what to do with you in the morning, okay?"

His eyes widened in shock, he was certain that that was in fact her bed and he would never, never take a ladies bed, and make her sleep on the floor. He shook his head emphatically.

"No." It came out whispered and croaky, barely understandable, but he said it. His first word in a long time. He grinned yet wider, unable to mask his joy, before forcing his face into a serious, determined expression and looking adamantly at her.

Buffy was confused. "You can barely stand, you have to get some rest. Take the bed." She insisted.

He once again shook his head, not sure how to tell her that he didn't sleep. Instead, he simply sunk to the floor were he had been standing, and laid down on the carpet.

Buffy shook her head in disbelief, "I cannot believe that you... "She trailed of and sighed in defeat. This was obviously not going anywhere. She then grabbed a pillow and blanket from her closet, and arranged them under his head and over him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. He looked ecstatic at this, adding yet more to Buffy's confusion.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked him, really not liking the fact that he was going to sleep on the floor. He nodded his head. She looked at him for a long moment, before sighing and climbing into her bed. She would have to deal with this strange new predicament in the morning. She didn't know why he didn't want her to get him help, but she was too tired to figure it out now.

"Good night, mystery guy." She called over to him.

She heard his croaked "Night." And settled back into her bed before promptly succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep.

He lay there, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling, listening to her breathe, as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened to him this day. Wondering what it was that was so uniquely familiar about her, though he knew he had never seen her before. Trying to understand what it meant, and whether, finally, his father would be able to find him.

...

**Okey dokey! That's that chapter! Hope y'all liked it! **

**I was sooo happy when I got all those reviews, It really was so great of you to take the time to send them, and I really appreciate it! **

**Icy Rabbit**

**mahahaha, evil laugh! You'll find out soon enough... i kind of want it to be a surprise! thank you very much for your lovely review though! It's so nice that you like my story! Sure, i'll pop by and review your fic, hope you liked this chappie! :)**

**Viola, Viola, Viola and Viola**

**Wow! thanks for the review(s) i really hope you liked this chapter as well. I like that you think it is mysterious, i like having a bit of mystery to my stories! :)**

**BAShipper101**

**Hey, thanx! Don't worry, i will be continuing this story, i've kind of grown rather fond of it, so if people keep reviewing, i'll keep writing!**

**Belle**

**Oooh! I'm glad i peaked your curiosity! Keep reading and you'll find out soon enough! Thank you for the review! :)**

**Metis**

**Oh, thank you very much, it is very sweet of you to say so. Don't worry, i will continue this story, i don't reallt like leaving my characters in rather uncomfortable situations, even if they're not actually my characters! ;) I really hope you liked this chapter as much! :)**

**Kat461**

**Yay! thank you very much for your lovely review, it really makes me feel goos about my writing when i get reviews like yours! i hope that you like the way Buffy reacts in this chapter! :)**

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**Thank you very much! It's really nice of you to day so, and for you to take the time to review, I really hope you liked this chapter as well! :)**

**L**

**Thank you very much for your review, and thanks for pointing out to me about the wordy sentences! I actually try not to make 'em like that, but I guess I can't help it, I will try in future to improve on that though! I really hope you liked this chapter! :)**

**Jenn**

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**Elizabeth**

**Yay! Thank you very much! I know that the first one did kinda lack a few details, but some of them where meant to be, to kinda keep people guessing about some things. I tried to describe things better in this one, hope you liked it! Thanks so much for your review! :)**

**Melanie**

**Hiya! I'm really glad that it caught your attention! This chapter explains one of your questions, and as for the other, I plan on explaining a LOT next chapter! I hope you liked it! And don't worry, if people keep reviewing, I'll be compelled to keep writing! Thanx for the review! :)**

**mz.sarJe**

**Hi ther! Thank you very very much! Next chapter will be explaining a lot, I think, so, look out for that one. Hope you liked this chapter! Thanx 4 reviewing! :)**

**Anne**

**Thank you very very much, hope you liked this chapter too! Thanks for the review! :)**

**Lori**

**Yay! Thanks, I was hoping that it would catch people's attention, in a good way. Thank you very much for taking the time to review, and I hope you liked this chapter! :)**

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